“Good. From now on, we ride con Diosito,” he said and lifted his left forearm to show us the tattoo of an agonizing Jesus, his face covered in blood, right above a large gray cross with a cloth wrapped around it that read EN LAS MANOS DE DIOS. He finished while pointing to the Satan tattoo I’d already seen on his other arm. “Then, when it’s time for things to get ugly, we ride con El Chamuco. You know, because sometimes God is your copilot, but it’s the Devil who takes you home.”
